


Happy Alone

by MorbidWorld



Category: Original Work
Genre: And also contempt, Angst, Depression, Gen, Little Sister and Big Sister have a lot of troubles, Murder, One Shot, Unnamed characters - Freeform, anger issues, original - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 08:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8659177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorbidWorld/pseuds/MorbidWorld
Summary: "Her parents had always told her to take care of her, no matter what it took, she was the pride and joy of the family; a treasure. 
She agreed with this, that's why everything she did, was to keep her treasure safe and sound."
... Maybe that's why she doesn't regret not a single thing she has done, at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write something with a character that has anger issues... I think they have a hidden charm to them, to be honest! Maybe with enough inspiration I'll deepen even more on this character and actually give her a name and proper design, along with her little sister, of course.

The clock fixated to the wall is ticking.

For a minute, she's both thankful and cursing the fact that she bought and changed the batteries of it. The reason is quite simple— Without any other noise in the room, besides her breathing, she was sure she would have lost it already, she would have break what little furniture was left in the small department she was sharing with her little sister—no, she used to share.

Her eyes, brown, her hair, black. She's not ugly, but she's not the prettiest lady either. Unmistakably, she would never stand out amongst other people. Perhaps, that's the reason it always hits others as a surprise whenever she says, or they realize ('Whatever happens first, I guess', she usually thinks nonchalantly) that she has anger issues.

Tick. Tock.

She's been staring at her table for almost one hour now, and it seems like she's not moving anytime soon. She's deep in thought at the moment, that's the only thing she can do, anyway. If she turns on the TV, only static will fill her ears. If she opens the fridge, she'll only be greeted with the depressing sight of cold dinner from yesterday, sitting alone on the back of her fridge, only a single plate, maybe a milk carton, if she's lucky it'll still be edible.

She fidgets with her hands inside her pockets for a bit, only to find a lighter and a crumpled cigarette, she shrugs. "Lit it up." She speaks, or mumbles. She's not sure, the rain pouring and the clock ticking suddenly seem way louder than her voice. She shrugs again. Before she knows it, she's already smoking the last cigarette she has, her hands now fidgeting with the purple lighter, she's thinking about her sister again.

"How the fuck did we even end like this?" She asks to no one, she's alone in the decaying room, and it pisses her off. She takes out the cigarette, only to grit her teeth, before a few minutes, it is back on its place, and she looks empty again. "Ah, yeah. I messed up." She snorts.

And, once again, recalls what happened that night. 

Everything she did, she did it for her small, precious little sister. Unlike herself, her sister was out of this world. Granted; She didn't stand out either, but she had the charisma and peace of mind her deplorable big sister lacked. She was small, petite, like a doll of porcelain, while the big sister was smart, yet, uncouth, she never knew when to shut up. Her parents had always told her to take care of her, no matter what it took, she was the pride and joy of the family; a treasure.  
She agreed with this, that's why everything she did, was to keep her treasure safe and sound. Her petite sister grew to be a fine woman, long hair and excellent grades. Not without being harassed once or twice during the times they were still young, taking advantage of the naivety of the youngest one, they used to pick on her for having everything the others didn't had, and she was quick to step up and defend her.

Tick. Tock.

Still, never attending to anger management lessons to practice kickboxing and boxing proved to be an extremely bad idea. And, at the young age of 16, the eldest sister found herself dragging and eventually burying on the garden of the house they had grew up on, a body.

Anyone would have been terrified—and she was, not of what she had been done, but the fact she had liked the sound of the guy's skull cracking when it hit the ground, and when she started to smash it against the road, over and over again. Until he stopped moving. But, he had it coming, this end fit his miserable life of harassing girls that had future out of pettiness. She sat on where the body was. Contemplating the stars and the full moon, her grey hoodie stll had some blood on it. She would wash it later. Her parents wouldn't even ask, they were used to finding her shirts and hoodies made a bloody mess from the practices. 

...

The clock fixated to the wall kept ticking.

Was it her imagination or it was starting to tick faster?

She was brought back to reality by the sound of small paws walking fast through the floor, then a squeak. 'The damned rat bit the bait.' She thought, yet, she didn't even flinch. She was immersed in her land of daydreaming, again.

The next thing she remembered was a fast-forward, a few years later. She was already 20, her sister, 18. Future looking bright, until they found it. Her sister knew it had been her, it was probably the looks she gave to the body, a smile that lasted less than a second, before her eyes drifted back to the figure of her sister. And for some reason, she didn't blame it on her. She pleaded guilty, and now she was on jail. She had bid farewell to her future for the sake of her mess of a big sister. Yet, she didn't knew why.

It was the fault of that damned rotting piece of meat, even in death, he kept fucking with her beloved sister's future!  
At some point, the wood of the table was stained with a red she was familiar with, glass shattered all over it was within her field of vision as well, a small groan escaping from her throat. The sharp pain was welcomed, nonetheless. It made her feel she was still there.

The ticking of the clock fixated to the wall had stopped.


End file.
